Thanksgivings

Another Thanksgiving spent here..this time, instead of ignoring the holiday (which I don't have off) or going to an all-you-can-eat buffet at a hotel with friends, or microwaving stuffing and boiling a chicken at home, I went to the home of friends. When I finished teaching at 3:30 I jumped into a taxi and had a snooze while on route to the opposite side of the city--from SE Beijing to NW. Ah--delightful, particularly as I was listening to Gleeful Podcast on my iPod. I am stuffed--so nice to see old friends, and especially those who set a traditional and bountiful table. Menu: roast turkey, stuffing, gravy, corn, a mixed vegetable cold salad (think Waldorf salad with crunchy steamed broccoli) mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes with a pecan crust, salad, and two types of cranberry sauce, the whole jellied mess still in traditional can form, and the whole berry type. Don't ask about the desserts--nine variations of chocolate, cheesecake, and pumpkin goodness.  No worry about the vegetarian dish, no screwing around with "but we GOTTA have that overcooked stinky brussel sprouts!" It was a miracle--plenty of food, beautifully cooked and served, and no extraneous dishes like my grandmother's chutney salad (which she insisted on pronouncing "Choot-ny." If corrected, she'd sniff and snip back at you, "Sounds better that way!")

On the way out--as I went down the six flights of stairs trailing behind a young and nauseatingly nice, in love couple with three small children (I was the back-up in case anyone dropped a shoe or a rattle) I got all teary-eyed. They are truly nice people with a nice happy family and they're both spectacularly great parents. He is one of the most tender, in-tune, take-charge Daddies I have ever seen and I felt my heart swell and burst with gratitude that Daddies like this existed. I love my father but he made it very clear when we were small that he despised small children---especially those who made noise, made demands on Mom, or who crossed his line of vision. His outlook did not much improve as we got older, although as adults he doesn't despise us totally, and he is, without a doubt, the World's Best Grandpa, as loving and kind to his granddaughter as is humanly possible--but still---this is not the experience of fathering I had, and it is not the experience of fathering my daughter had. In that moment of heart-swelling, or heart-expansion, or raised consciousness, or whatever you can call it, sure, there was a twinge of grief for myself and my daughter, and also for my parents because THEY didn't experience fathering like that, but overall, a feeling of relief to see the love so patiently applied. Sometimes you don't have to be the recipient of love to be its beneficiary. I can read by a light which was flipped  for someone else, after all.

I am grateful for my friends: I am grateful for my enemies, of which I do have a few. (The bastards.) I am grateful for the challenges thrown at me--way more than most people born into my situation would have, but manageable. My daughter is healthy, smart, and being educated, and when I leave this world she'll have the resources of inner strength, intelligence, and kindness to carry her forward. I'm even grateful for that drunken text message from The Rose at 1:36 a.m Now let's see if this feeling of gratitude lasts the day through--I have to teach my toughest group this morning and it would serve them right if I lay down on the floor, pretended it was my grandmother's green and gold press-apply shag carpet, and took a long Thanksgiving nap, replete with turkey and gratitude quickly turning lukewarm and lumpy.